And yet when I end up there, in the midst of weightiness and beauty, it’s a bit unsettling. Right now, for instance, I am grateful for all of the goodness in my life, which suddenly seems obvious, like it’s written in sparking letters in the night sky. (And, by the way, I felt that way even before we went and got engaged, so it isn’t only that. But surely, yes, the feeling has increased in the last eleven days. You’ll forgive me this indulgence, won’t you, and let me be sentimental for at least a few weeks, right? Maybe even until my wedding, if I get married fast enough?)

With the weightiness, of course, comes complexity–in this case, the future, with opportunities and decisions and plans and unknowns coloring it with their heavy strokes.

Parts of my life feel rooted and certain; other elements blow wildly like streamers in the wind–or, for a less charming analogy, those inflatable figures that wave their long limbs uncontrollably from their posts outside auto dealerships and the strip mall shops that want to buy your gold.

Whatever the image: it’s curious to feel a profound clarity about some things while others remain such a mystery.

Living an intentional, meaningful life can be difficult; it is, by its nature, not simple. Immersed in the nonprofit world as I am, I think often of how when we dive into these things we feel called to, these lovely and important things, we’re faced with so much of the dirty, murky, tired and heavy of the world. I don’t want to coast through life, so I’ll take it, but easy it is not.

Better, though, wouldn’t you agree?

On a recent morning run, I saw a red chair perched somewhat precariously on the overhang of a purple rooftop, a makeshift porch created for a house that didn’t have one. It reminded me of Kimberley’s wonderful post about her kitchen, about the normalcy of it and her determination to continue making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

And isn’t this what life is about? We construct porches on rooftops and silk purses out of sow’s ears; we take pretty photos in drab or tiny kitchens and find joy in a complicated world. We brace our feet against the purple shingles, intent on maintaining our grasp on the loveliness we’ve found in the complex and/or quotidian, determined not to slip back down to the ground, enjoying the feeling of the wind in our hair.

This cake–flavorful and delicious but far from mild–feels like that. It looks rather simple in these photographs, but its taste is nuanced, interesting and extremely good. The ingredients are tried-and-true favorites, but I likely would not have thought to combine them in a cake sans the direction of ever-wise Kim Boyce. She comments that the rosemary and chocolate “bring out the spice and fruitiness of the olive oil.” Yes! That’s exactly it! And my oh my, but is it ever a glorious thing.

So run with the complexity of this cake, and of your life. Make porches on rooftops. Do what it takes to life your life to the fullest, and be glad.

I usually use oil in most of my cakes….and there’s been this nagging voice at the back of my head that keeps telling me try using olive oil in place of the regular veggie variety. I think I want to make this cake now…using olive oil.